One time I dated this guy…he was the first person I felt like I wanted to marry…my first love…my first a lot of things, including my first and last heartbreak.

I cheated on him, we’d break up, then he’d come back and ask me out and I always said yes. Finally he broke up with me and stopped asking to come back. I loved him for a year after that, asked him to stay in my life, to be my lover once and for all. I gave him an ultimatum. All, or nothing. 

He said “I can’t give you all”. I hung up on him, and refused to feel anything until I watched  The Notebook three months later. I cried for a whole day after that. He asked to come back into my life after that, and I didn’t let him. Later on I asked him to keep a promise and he broke it the very next day. Never again did I talk to him.

But I forgave him and moved on. I have no regrets.

About a year after him, I started dating someone else..who became one of the most unhealthy relationships but also one of the most intense and closest I had been in. He would call me names. He would treat me like dirt one day, then like a goddess the next.

It took me a year to break up with him and get him out of my life.

However, our break up was messy. So every year after that, I kept trying to make things better. Make things clean. Close the cycle. 

It just never happened. Every single time I’d get insulted. Every single time I’d get dragged in and spit out.

I hated him. I hated him for what he had done to me, and how he had made me feel. I felt stripped from my power, betrayed.

To this day, I still feel sick when I think of him.

But even though I feel sick, I forgave him too.

It was thanks to these two men that I learned one of the most basic emotional and spiritual chunks of wisdom. You do not forgive for the other person’s peace of mind. Ever. In relationships, in friendships, in family, on a day-to-day basis because of how we’ve been raised, it’s good to say, “sorry”. But even saying “I’m sorry” is more of a “I’m doing this for me”. It shows great strength, being able to admit when you were wrong. 

So this is what I know. This is what I learned. You can still love someone. You can still wish them the best. You can forgive them, and understand why they did what they did….but that doesn’t meant you have to let them back in your life. I never got why people would say, “i forgive too easily” and be ashamed of that. THere’s no such thing as forgiving too easily. Forgiving is hard. It should be something you’re proud of. That you can forgive and then love someone. But then, HOLD.YOUR.GROUND. Forgive a person that hurt you, but don’t be stupid and then let them back in your life, especially if you know they’re not trustworthy. If someone slanders your name, insults your, hurts you, cheats on  you, whatever…forgive ‘em, sure. But keep ‘em out. 

As far as people who think they’re being badass or whatever by not forgiving someone, I ‘ve never understood that. It’s like what buddha said about poison. If you don’t let it go, it’s like you the poison and expecting the other person to be affected. The other person doesn’t KNOW you haven’t forgiven them, you know? They can just assume you have, get over their own issues, and move on, and there you are sitting with your anger and resent. Which is only going to attract more anger and hate into your life.

And I’m not stupid, you know, I question my own values all the time, I make sure that I’m standing in the right light as far as morals are concerned. And here’s what I’ve come up with: I’ve managed to, for the most part, lead a drama-free life despite the fact that I myself am fairly dramatic and emotional. I have friends that are open-minded, sweet, loving, intelligent, and have a good life with healthy relationships…and these people love me, respect me, keep me in their lives…they make sure to water our friendship. So what does that tell me? That I’m on the right track. That I’m doing something right. Same with my boyfriend. 

Despite me not going out as much, I’ve established a circle of friends here, and everywhere I’ve traveled around the world. People love me, tell me I’m wonderful, that they’re thankful I’m in their lives, etc etc. But most importantly, I just FEEL good. What I do FEELS right. The only relationships that I ever felt guilty, I made sure to apologize and move on. If it didn’t work because the other person just wasn’t going to hear it, then I forgave myself and moved on. I don’t let other people’s issues drag me down.

So there’s a lot of lessons I’m constantly learning and rebuilding and re-establishing. But if there’s one I was blessed enough to learn early on, it was that one. Let go of people that hurt you, forgive them, forgive yourself, and lead a life spreading LOVE. You will see it return tenfold.

I’m still on the path of increasing that, I will never stop learning about forgiveness, one of the most useful tools I will ever have. But for now, that’s what I offer you. That lesson. Hope it resonates with you.

Day 23 – A song that you want to play at your wedding

“What are your views on marriage?”
“I want to get married. Not anytime soon, but I do want to do it.”
“Same here.”

We’d been dating for something like a 3 weeks but this was a conversation we felt was incredibly important.

Our relationship took off like many relationship do, fast and furious, and maybe it should have surprised us but it never did. Somehow, we both just knew. More him than me, but I knew it too, when I think about it.

We started a bit by accident. I had always spoken to him with a little bit of caution…he was arrogant and tended to say things that were sometimes rude, and I was afraid he’d do that to me. Knowing him now, I realize he would’ve never dared. 

He invited me to hang out a few times before the rest of the gang arrived to San Miguel, we were supposed to go to paintball together once, I remember that…but we never did, because of his eternal issues with following through. 

Finally, the rest of the group got there and we started to catch up. We had the longest conversation he and I had ever had, and it wasn’t even that long. He spoke to me in French, making a big deal about the person he was sitting next to, telling me how he felt about them. I listened. We were having a private conversation, despite the fact that people were around us. Some people would come to listen to us speak French, and we’d ignore them.

We kept a friendship. One day, we went out just the two of us a cafe, and we talked about our respective “dates” at the time. We were becoming friends. I loved being around him, I loved that he was emotionally available, I could see right through that cocky act of his and I knew we could be good friends.

After a bit, of course…I developed a crush on him. I put it aside for the time being…but then when the time came for it to just be the two of us once again, we hung out a few times and I started to feel the need to be closer to him. I didn’t think anything new of it at the time, that winter was full of frolic and and things I’d never done before and things I’d never do again. So even if I felt excited around him, I couldn’t tell if it was him, the time, or both. 

We went out to the movies, and instead of holding hands I traced loops on his palm with my finger. We went to see Sherlock together as our first date.

On New Year’s Eve, he dipped me and gave me the best first kiss I’ve ever had. It was Chic flick movie material.

We went to Guanajuato together, and after only a week after our first kiss…I told him I loved him. Probably setting a record of some kind for myself. He then said he loved me too. I believed him. 

When the time came to finally go our separate ways, I had no intention of actually developing a relationship with him. “You’re too young, we’ll be too far, and it’ll be too long. You should be out experiencing other relationships.” For an hour I explained to him that being in a relationship with me right now was not a smart thing for him to do. The more I tried to convince him, the more I realized he was convincing me. I thought to myself, “what else could someone give me, that would make me want to walk away from him?”

I couldn’t come up with an answer. 
And like that, without even asking me, he got me to be his girlfriend. Long distance. 8 months. 

By the third week we were talking about marriage. In any other relationship with a girl closer to his age, he wouldn’t have to do it. But I had been in enough relationships and I wanted to settle down. I wanted to know where he stood without pressuring him.

It turns out, he was actually way more sure and committed to the idea of being with me than I had even thought about.

Somehow within a month of talking we had fallen in love, begun dating, and told each other we’d be together for a very long time.

For a very long time during that first year I made sure to always tell him he could walk away whenever he wanted. Again, he ended up convincing me that we were both in it for the long haul.

Two years later, this is our relationship. In our heads, we already are married. We know what we want.

We both think marriage is a fun celebration, though not necessary. We both want to have a day full of fun and celebration, but don’t actually need the papers. We both want to have a ring on our hand so we can show it off to others, but in our hearts, the vows have already been tattooed.

The way I feel for him, is the way I always thought I had felt before. I realize now, that was hope. This is love.

The best part of being in a relationship like this, is when someone asks you how you feel for the person, and explaining it to them, it makes your heart flutter and blossom because it is the most romantic thing you’ve ever felt —-and you know he feels exactly the same way.

I don’t bother trying to explain it too much. There’s too many clichés and I’ve been in too many relationships, I’ve loved before, each a unique way that deserves to be honored for what it was. Those boys and men made me who I am today, they paved the way for me to be the girlfriend I am to Zack.

This was the very first song we ever romantically shared. We have “songs” that belong to us, one’s that fit much better than this one…but this was the first, and as it stands, should we have a wedding…it should be played there for us to dance to at some point.

I love you, bunny.

Day 22 – A song that you listen to when you’re sad

My therapist once said…I hate starting sentences like that. You know. I’m one of those people now. 

My therapist once told me that the reason why I couldn’t think straight was because my brain was in “flight or fight” mode. A lot of the stuff she said didn’t click back then, and we’re not seeing each other anymore, but that just made so much sense.

It’s gotten to the point where sometimes I think maybe she planted the idea in my head, like a seed, and it’s true because I believe it. Or maybe I believe it because it’s true.

Either way, my brain isn’t like that anymore. Not by default. But sometimes, without warning, it just snaps.

I’ll try to sort through whatever my brain is dealing with, to tell myself “hey…it’s OK. We’ll get through this.” but I can’t. I can’t think. All I can do is feel. All I can do is feel like I’ve completely ditched myself. I feel betrayed by my own self. And then I feel alone.

And I just start panicking.

My anxiety gets the most of me. I feel like I’ll never get out, like there’s not light at the end of a tunnel because I’m not in a tunnel, I’m in a well.

And absolutely no one understands, and everyone will just tell you to “not let it get to you.” and no one has the answers, not even me.

It’s paralyzing.

It hurts.

And people disrespect it, they say things like “I know exactly what you feel” not if you’re smiling you don’t. If you’re not panicking as I’m explaining this to you, then no, you don’t know how I feel.

And even if you did, two people panicking and feeling like they’re drowning is helpful to no one.

I tell myself we won’t go the dark side of the moon anymore, and yet there it is, tricking me by making me feel like I belong there, like it’s my home.

But it’s not home. It’s the place that I have come to fear the most. 

Day 21 – A song that you listen to when you’re happy

I was infuriated, and swiftly thereafter, a bit embarrassed. A million times before I’ve read and seen the thousands of articles of hate crimes. I never watch the videos —why anyone ever would is beyond me. But I read the articles. I stay somewhat in touch with things, without letting it anger me. I don’t want to be blind-sided by anger.

But this time, it was a friend of mine. Someone I love very much, in a way that was instantaneous and thorough the second we met. “I know who you are” I had told him at the rooftop birthday party for one of our friends. “Jfish talks about you and your boyfriend all the time.” I was completely in love with his personality. He managed to be charming and vile all at once. Every insult that flung from his mouth was a display of affection. He was beautiful and perfect and I wanted him to always be happy forever. We spent the entire time laughing, and I walked away from that party with a new friend. 

I remember not being 10 feet away from the party where we had met,  when I sent him a text “miss you already” I wrote. I felt like it was OK for me to display my affections —like somehow he would get it. Like somehow he wouldn’t get annoyed or scared off at my intensity. I didn’t have to be shy with him. There’s something freeing about being next to a man who fucking loves you, but wouldn’t love to fuck you.  

If he ever did get annoyed, I never noticed. I loved hanging out with him, every second a crazy adventure, especially if there was alcohol involved. We bonded over a Jewel song once, and to me, that was the seal to our friendship. 

So suddenly seeing this man get serious….suddenly seeing him discuss a moment of fear, where he couldn’t walk in a neighborhood because people there were small-minded…it infuriated me. All he wanted to do was go volunteer some of his time to help another minority —latinos— at a hospital, no less. The man is a saint. And he was afraid to go do a good deed because of people that did bad deeds.

I wanted to write the USA government a letter. I wanted to embarrass them, to crumble them into a pile of vile shit and tell them, “this is your fault. Gay people are not going to go away ever, and it’s your fault your country thinks it’s OK to do this. Your country is a piece a shit and you should be embarrassed.” 

…but of course it isn’t their fault. And of course the US isn’t a piece of shit. And of course I wasn’t going to write that letter.

Instead, I sat there embarrassed that now is when I had decided to let this get to me. I knew better than to let hatred and anger rule over my ego, but I was failing miserably at letting love in. 

What did I want for my beautiful friend?  For him to be considered just another person. No special treatment, just the same rights as everyone else. I wanted him to be seen for he was. I wanted fairness, and equality, and love. 

And I’m angry. I am. And I’m sad. 
But I know that the love I feel for him is way more powerful than the anger.

If I continue to sit here and hate others, than I am not following the cardinal rule I tell myself when things go wrong. Be the change you want to see in the world.

So I choose a song. A song that I only listen to in very special occasions because it sends chills and goosebumps all across my body. It brings tears to my eyes. The Beatles are the closest thing to a religion that I have. When I listen to that song, I suddenly understand everything. I’m suddenly connected to everyone else at that moment who is buzzing with love. For at least 2 minutes, or 3 minutes, everything is exactly as it should be, and everything is perfect and nothing hurts.

I choose this song, and I dedicate it to him. And I send him light, so that we will see the change in our lifetimes. For now…I love you Fups. With all my fucking heart. This one’s for you.

All you need, baby. It’s love.

Sometimes I feel like I grow and evolve so fast, I give those that are closest to me whiplash. 

Other times, I feel like I didn’t change at all. Or like they didn’t see it. If they don’t see it, did it still happen?

And many times…I feel stagnant. The same. A scared little girl in an alien planet. I can feel my selfishness like a snake crawling up my arm. A pet snake that feeds on fear of abandonment and a false sense of security. 

At times it’s like I get beamed back down into my brain to check up on things, and everything’s a mess, everything’s in disarray. How did this happen? I’m trapped on the other side of the glass in my head. I can hear the words coming out of my mouth. I can see ego sneaking up behind my pupils, controlling the muscles in my face, and telling my brain it feels something when I know I don’t.

I didn’t mean to say that.

I didn’t mean to do that.

I didn’t mean to think that.

28 years and the body still feels foreign. Being a human feels familiar…but unnatural.

The concept of being at home wherever you are is one I read about in stories, and pretend to understand when people refer to it, but I don’t actually believe that feeling exists. How could you belong anywhere?

How could you belong anywhere that has an authority that does not know you or care about you? How could you belong anywhere where money is the native tongue and time is ignored and worshipped all at once? 

How could you belong to someone or something palpable? 

Is this the best we can do? Thousands of years of evolution, and this is what we have to show for it? An unshakeable feeling that we are worthless and an abundance of shiny toys to tell us otherwise, to distract us from the cold hard truth that we are divine, powerful, extraordinary creatures with a skewed perception of how much we’re truly worth. When we remember to, we measure our worth in dollar signs and miles per gallon. When we don’t, we gorge ourselves by eating artificially colored orange food from vending machines and watching artificially colored orange people from the television. 

And this is who I am. I am a representation of you. A human being, with an ability to love that goes beyond the grasp of science and rules of religion. I can make you feel. That’s what I’m good at. That’s what I’m passionate about. At feeling. At making you feel. 

But in my little jar of self-worth, there’s nothing but pennies. 

How is it, that in a world filled with people that do so much evil, and cause so much emptiness…the ones that actually deserve to feel empowered are the ones to feel the smallest?

Feel.

I want to feel.  

Day 20 – A song that you listen to when you’re angry

One day I was mad at Zack and put “fuck you” into the last.fm search bar to see what kind of music would pop up. And that’s how I heard Ceelo’s “Fuck You” for the first time. Now I love the song.

“All I need is money. If I have money, I’ll be OK”. They tell you money can’t buy happiness, and it’s true, it can’t. Nothing can. But it can give it to you, and there’s a difference. Money can get you things that will bring you peace of mind. Which to me, equals happiness. 

And while the Beatles were right and All You Need truly is Love, the message has been handed out as a happy-go-lucky jingle by the new age hippie types that are living in another plane. They can be incredibly rich, or living off scraps, but they’re blissfully ignorant to the stench of needing anything else but love. 

But for the rest of you non-hippie-type folk that didn’t drink the Kool-Aid, that can seem like a lot of non-sensical garbage. It isn’t. It’s the secret to happiness. And it’s been said a million times in a different million ways by many different people. Some people take the bait and live happily ever after as a fish swimming in the maelstrom that is life, with his new badge of honor in having discovered this secret. 

Others, ignore it. Because it’s too simple a secret but too difficult a concept. It’s a chinese finger-trap. 

All I wanted was a steady influx of money. Not nice things, not a car, not a better computer…just a steady influx of money. With that money I don’t have to worry about anything else. I can just…be. 

I can work on art, or writing, or my spirituality.

So when the book came in, I reminded myself, “this is all I wanted.” And it was. And it is. Anything else life throws at me I can handle as long as I have enough money to pay my simple life. 

But then you realize that you also want to exist. And in order to exist, you need people around you that validate that existence. If the people around you have a different dynamic than you do and talk about things that are of no interest to you, then your brain’s fuel light will start blinking…and at some point, it’ll stop operating correctly. 

It’s true, too. I read it in a psychology book. If a person start going clinically coo-coo, and they don’t have at least one person that truly cares for their well-being and actually is aware of their existence, then that person will just proceed to being incredibly clinically coo-coo. 

That’s why partners are so important. That’s why best friends are valued to the point that they are. They are —quite literally— keeping you sane.

So I said that all I wanted was money…but now it turns out that I also want my sanity. And money definitely doesn’t buy best friends. 

Life…it just keeps giving, doesn’t it?

Day 19 – A song from your favorite album

“It’s because I’m a Hufflepuff.”
“A what??”
“A Hufflepuff. OK Harry Potter, right?”
She laughed.
“No listen. He goes to a magic school, but the school is also British, so it has houses. The houses are kind of like fraternities or sororities. They’re like teams. Each student is sorted into a house, and they have classes together mixed with other houses, but they can get points  taken or of given to them for their house and at the end they say who wins.”
“…OK”
“Alright well I don’t know how houses in Britishland work, but in Harry Potter, they get sorted by a magic hat. The hat tells them where they should be based on really deep beliefs and personality traits. No one else can really tell you, just that hat. Because it sees within you.”
“…Right.”
“OK. So there’s this website designed by the author of the books. She developed this test that asks you something like 13 questions that seem silly. Like, what path would you take if in X situation, and there are three cards, and you choose which. Based on all these questions, you get sorted into a house.”
I could feel her starting to get impatient.
“I got sorted into Hufflepuff. I always did. And…..Hufflepuffs are known for being somewhat…cowardly.”
My love for my House and the Harry Potter Kingdom kicked in and I quickly added, “though not all of them are, there’s very brave ones. One of them was selected for this really importnat tournament, and he would’ve won had Voldemort not bee—THE POINT IS— I’m very fearful. Pain. I’m really fearful of pain.”
My mother had been looking at me in a half confused half I-zoned-out look that I know so well in her. We’re both notorious for it. We don’t mean to, but sometimes we zone out halfway in the conversation. Zack’s used to it, and will sometimes have to repeat what he was saying because I’ll tell him I zoned out.

But the last sentence had gotten her to click back.

And she sat there and listened, as she’s been doing more and more lately, and better and better.

It’s soothing, to be listened to, though sometimes my impatience gets the better of me, since there are times where what I want is insight, not silence. But not advice either. There are people that give phenomenal advice, even fewer that shut up and listen, and even fewer that have insightful things to add to your thoughts.

I am quite insightful, when given the chance. I’ve spoken to three therapists. I only liked one of them really. She was the only one that seemed to be more insightful than me.

But at that moment, all my mother could do was listen to me ramble about my fear of pain, how it paralyzes me, and how all of this somehow tied in to me being a Hufflepuff in a world that she knows is very real to me. 

But now, I’ve gotten to the point where being listened to is nice, but useless.

Insight. That’s what I want, is insight.

Insight is like light, and maybe if I just get enough light, I can stop being afraid.

It seems like I am the only one, however, that carries the light.

Day 18 – A song that you wish you heard on the radio

“This song makes me think of you.” I told him.

I’m not sure why. I don’t know why. Maybe I was projecting on to him. 
It’s no secret (at least not to me) that I feel very at home when around the LGBT community. I haven’t (Knowingly) been around a transgender person physically, but I’ve been “around” them online.

The struggle of having to “convince” the world that you are in fact exactly how you should be, and that it should be allowed…..it just resonates within me. 

And for the most part, every gay person I’ve ever met has been open, accepting, and loving. They don’t ask questions. They’ve all been fun to be with, and many of them have also been deep and philosophical. Many of them have a pain in their hearts that comes from either not accepting yourself or feeling like the world you live in doesn’t accept you. Without pretending I know of the Gay Struggle, being around the people that had that, I felt less lonely and more understood. Not to mention easily accepted. Every single side of me was celebrated and loved. “You’re a girl! You have boobs! How gorgeous!” “You’re such a free spirit, Maelle, I love it!”, “giiirrl you know what you want, go and get it.” every time, every time. I am a celebration. I am a good friend. I am gorgeous.

But it wasn’t like it was him who did that, it wasn’t like he was “THE token gay guy” I knew others. And I didn’t know him particularly well. l, we hadn’t ever had some deep conversation. But I knew he was smart, talented, and that he was a good worker. I knew he had really good thoughts about how to make it in life. I also knew he had a bit of a wild side that was hard to tame, that lashed and out when there was a medium like alcohol to blur the lines. I had respect for him. Respect for his existence. Respect for how he was. I still do.

So although I did not see him as the “small-town boy” that the song sang about, I thought it was for him. And even though he was by no means the only gay boy I knew, it just seemed fitting. 

But who knows…maybe I’m a gay boy. Maybe I was just projecting. Something about that version of that song haunts me. It speaks of a story that has nothing to do with me…and yet…everything to do with me.

Day 17 – A song that you hear often on the radio

“And at that moment I swear we were infinite”. A quote from a book I’ve never read, but I’ve seen so many times, it rings true to appropriate moments. 

“All the nights just run together” he said. I thought so too, but not the way he meant it. It’s running in a group you’re not a part of, but still made to feel like you are.

There is so much love for those that are part of the group, that it spills over, and for one moment, you believe it’s meant for you. “And at that moment, I swear we were infinite.” 

That moment, any moment, all moments. Looking at their faces, peaceful, happy, shy, excited, introvert, extrovert, each with a unique personality, yet all there, enjoying the ever-burning flame of friendship. Drunk, high, sober, all of the above.

Young, in love, single, passionate.

The music changes with each personality, the rare few agreeing on one song, but hardly ever does anyone agree with any of the songs.

But whether they want to or not, when that one song came on, everyone knew at least one line. Everyone sings.

And at that moment…I swear…

Day 16 - A Song That You Used to Love But Now Hate

There is no way to talk about this story in a way that doesn’t tear through me. It still hurts. It still makes my heart stop, I still fear the name. One day I’ll understand why. Until then…

This song. 

Day 15 - A song that describes you.

What if no one is right?

What if there is no Heaven, Hell, or reincarnation? What if there is no “nothing” what if there is no soul, what if there is no going back to the stars what if there is no going back to the dirt? 

What if everyone is right and no matter what you do, you end up exactly what you believe will happen to you anyway?

Then no matter what, you want to spend the time you have here as best you can.

Which to me, that means doing good, and doing well. It means enjoying everything you can as much as you can, but taking care of your body since it’s the vessel that takes you everywhere and allows you to have all this fun and do all this good.

It means making yourself happy, and trying not to cause others pain.

And that means we’re all here, making every mistake possible, because if we had been born with all the answers, there would have been no point to our lives.

Day 14 - A song that no one would expect you to love.

I’ve never really had a type. 

But there was a type that I liked. Looking back, if you take all the boys I used to really really like —you know, not the ones you love, but the ones you looked at and they made you want to bite your lip— and you put them all together, it’s really nice to see that they ended up making up Zack. 

But once upon a time, I was taught a couple of lessons about love and relationships from an androgynous boy who we will call A.G. 

Thinking back, he seemed like he was eons older than I was, but a MySpace Profile (back in the day) would’ve told you he was only a year older. I must’ve been about 14-15, but at 16, he felt way older. I remember seeing him for the first time on a tour in Europe and thinking he was a girl.  I kept seeing him over and over again, unsure of what he was. I started to develop such a strong fascination with him, that the crush had developed long before my mother and I finally decided he was a boy.

We first spoke in Hamburg, Germany. We were on one of those cruises that take you to different places of Europe, but all I remember from that trip was Poland, Germany, Russia, and Norway. Sometimes I think I remember bits and pieces of Switzerland and other countries. As far as I’m concerned though, if I don’t remember it, I wasn’t there. 

We were off for a day to Hamburg and we looked for people who we knew from the cruise and asked if we could sit with them. My mom, knowing by now that I wanted nothing more than to sit with him, asked him and his father if we could sit with them.

So we started talking. Since this was the summer of Titanic, and this was in fact, a ship, I let my 15-year-old mind get carried away and swore he was my Leonardo DiCaprio. We only talked for about a week and a half, but by the end of that trip he had kissed me,clalled me “Princess” with a French-Canadian accent, and given me a beautiful gold chain with three little white jewels.

He told me how important it was to read good books and listen to good music. He taught me what symmetrical meant and that the opposite was “asymmetrical” and not “unsymetrical”. And he told me that I absolutely had to listen to good punk, but mainly his favorite band, Bad Religion.

On our last day I wore sunglasses to hide my tears and looked back to the ship the entire time we were on the walkway to the dock. Not everyone could get out at once, and our turns had not coincided. We had exchanged e-mails however, and a month later he taught me one last and very important lesson.

Do not be clingy. Do not be needy. Do not set expectations on boys that they never agreed to, then proclaim a broken-heart when they do not respond with the same emotions. 

Years later, my family and I had gotten home from an outing and my mom asked me if I recognized a last name on the caller I.D from a missed caller. I chuckled and told her, “Not unless it’s A”. I was walking away as she was calling back, but something about her voice  when she began to speak made me walk slower. 

He had called. It was him.

I don’t remember why, or how, but it had been two years later and it was a pattern that seemed to run along many boys that at some point had hurt me. Two years later they call to apologize, two years later they call to say they’d never met anyone like me, two years later they’d call just to say hi.

We tried keeping in touch again through MySpace, but never made it to Facebook. 

After all, it had not been love what I had felt for him, I knew it then and I knew it now. But boy did I want it to be. I always remember him with so much fondness, for how beautiful and smart he made me feel, but mostly, for all the important lessons he taught me about boys. It was he who had started my fascination with lanky, punk-loving boys.

It was because of him that I was so inclined to wanting to listen to more punk bands as they boys taught me their favorites. 

And as the years went on, I pick up new punk songs here and there that I fall in love with. My personal favorite however, will always be Bad Religion.

Day 13 - A song that is a guilty pleasure.

“I still can’t fully believe you watch this show.”
I kept playing my game as Zack folded clothes while watching Gossip Girl and I tried to make sense of what was going on.
He smirked at me. “Gotta watch my stories.”
I laughed “GOD, I know. The whole damn show is so flaky. You can’t trust ANY of the characters.”

How can you stand to watch a show where you can’t trust anyone to stick to whatever belief system or value system they have? It’s like there isn’t one. The inconsistency is insane. It pisses me off.

 ”It’s just a show” you could say. But then we program our minds to wanting what’s on TV. “I want to date a Chuck Bass” girl no you don’t, he would bring world of pain.

And then those songs that are just beyond unhealthy and bad for any relationship…it’s like 90% of the love songs out there are about co-dependency, and yet there they are, fucking making millions and dictating what thousands of people will look for in a relationship. It is disgusting. And it pisses me off.

But…you know…man, what a good song. 

Day 12 - A song from a band you hate

“What’s the deal with everyone hating Nickelback?”

“I don’t hate Nickelback.”

“Well…the internet does.”

I was trying to figure out what band I “hated”, and a conversation I had already had a few times before popped up. My mind, for some reason, went to Nickelback when I tried to think of a band I hated. Except I don’t hate them. The internet (by which I mean, Tumblr and some blogs) seem to think Nickelback is atrocious, but I can’t say I’ve met a large amount of IRL people that actually hate Nickelback.

“A radio journalist put the songs over each other, playing them at the same time. The ups, the downs, the volume increases, the timing of the lyrics, ALL the same in each and every song. Essentially, all their music is the same.” a friend of mine argued.

“Well yeah but, there are a lot of bands that do that.” I thought for a second, then added “Like for Example, The Black Eyed Peas. Man now there’s a band that pisses me off.”

I thought about how the first time I ever heard them, it had been “Where is the love” and I could not believe that a band had gotten popular with a song like that from the getgo. Then in 2003, when they started to come out with songs like “Don’t Lie”, “Hey Mama”, “Don’t Phunk With My Heart”…I thought they were showing off how perfect they were. It was like a speeddate that had gone right. Their heads were in the right place, but now I knew I could take them out clubbing as well.

“My Humps” kind of made me raise an eyebrow, but the video was cute and I was still at that stage in my relationship with them where I was willing to forgive them little mishaps here and there.

“And NOW they’re getting popular by taking one line and saying it over and over again. I mean what’s even the point of four band members when Will.I.Am and Fergie seem to essentially be the ones doing everything. It’s like bad techno.” I almost added in a “hmph!” just for good measure.

“Sounds like you found your band” she said.

Damn right. 

Day 11 - A song from your favorite band

“The Beatles are my religion’ Oh I like that! I’m going to put that up as my status as well”

I got a lot of positive feedback for that. But then when people want to put on a Beatles song and sometimes I’m just not feeling it. Because they’re not necessarily my favorite musical group.  But they are my favorite band. 

I like what they did for the world. I like that Lennon and Harrison continue to do it for the spiritual world. For people. Like “imagine”. And the way they thought. The way Harrison just always wanted to and be more. Like he wasn’t completely here, and sometimes I feel like not completely being here is the key to understand what “here” really is. 

So I had never actually had a favorite band, not really. I loved music, I always do, but I don’t follow bands. Or groups. Because songs in general would reach me, but not entire albums. And for my fifteen year relationship with music, that’s how it was. 

Until I discovered Mumford & Sons. The song that made them popular I think was Little Lion Man. But the one that did it for me was The Cave. They use a lot of Shakespearean references in their music, so maybe that’s their secret, I don’t know. All I know is that they are the first and only band (besides The Beatles) that I have ever wanted nothing more but to see them live, to feel my tears streaming down my face and the ground exploding under the stomps of my feet as I punch the air with my fist and scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs at some concert. As I send them all the love they’ve sent me, as I thank them for saving me from myself over and over again. For giving me the words to name my feelings with. For knowing. Just knowing.

And that’s all I need from them. The lyrics to my freedom.